


left is right

by vonseal



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:55:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25997863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonseal/pseuds/vonseal
Summary: myungjun needs to go right. he goes left instead. but left must be right, because he meets moon bin.
Relationships: Kim Myungjun | MJ/Moon Bin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	left is right

**Author's Note:**

> this is a prompt fill for [KindaLoyalToMyBiases](https://twitter.com/LoyalKinda) on twitter! sorry it's so late! prompt was "i'm somewhere past drunk and decidedly lost and you're a kindly local on a nighttime outing au."
> 
> hope this is what you wanted!

Right.

He has to go right.

He  _ knows _ he has to go right. His home is to the right. The tiny apartment building he’s able to afford on his fantastic salary is to the  _ right _ . Briefly, he wonders if he ought to move out of Seoul to somewhere with cheaper rent, but then his mind snaps back to the issue at hand.

_ Stay focused, _ he scolds himself, and he takes a step.

He takes a step to the left.

_ Right _ , he reminds himself.

Dammit, he’s already walking left.

And he  _ continues _ walking left, despite knowing full well that he will not reach his apartment this way, unless he considers making a giant circle and walking an ungodly amount. 

He wonders if he should gesture for a cab. Everyone does that when they’re drunk, don’t they? But he pats around for his wallet and is bemused when he cannot find it.

Maybe the guy at the bar who copped a feel had stolen the wallet out of his back pocket. Oh, geez, and he had fallen so easily into that gaze, hadn’t he? He had allowed for himself to be kissed and wooed and then the guy went off and stole his wallet.

“Well, damn,” he mutters, and then he giggles because his voice is a bit scratchy and he sounds husky, and he  _ never _ sounds husky. His friends usually describe his voice as a mix of sing-song-sweet and oh-my-god-why-do-you-talk-with-your-nose.  _ Husky _ is not a synonym for his voice. But he quite enjoys sounding a little husky for the moment, and so he decides to talk some more.

“My name is Kim Myungjun,” he says. Someone glances at him. Maybe they do. Myungjun isn’t sure, actually. The street is crowded and there’s other drunk men. He’s not the only one.

Or, he hopes he isn’t.

“My name is Kim Myungjun. I’m twenty-seven. I like to play—” The husky tone broke and back came his usual voice, the one his friends often mocked. Well, it was good to sound manly while it lasted. He might as well accept his fate. He was Kim Myungjun and he would always be Kim Myungjun.

At least he could sing. None of his friends could sing. He gave a small twirl. Take that, Park Jinwoo.

He almost fell into the street.

Alright, no more twirls. He had to figure out how to get home. He had to turn around and walk the way he came from. He had to go  _ right _ , not left.

But his feet were not stopping. Why wouldn’t they stop? There was no reason for him to continue onward like this, and yet onward he went, stumbling across the pavement and swaying underneath neon lights. Why was Seoul so  _ confusing? _ There was a crosswalk up ahead and it diverged into two separate paths and Myungjun had no idea which one he ought to take.

_ None of them _ , the sober part of his mind reminded him. 

That was true. He had to go right.

He took the right path.

He knew it wasn’t exactly  _ right _ . He knew it wasn’t  _ correct _ . He knew he was only supposed to go right at the start of his journey. But his feet had already moved forward and he felt as if he could not stop them. They were weighed down with lead, perhaps, and he was forced to drag them along as his body tugged him in the wrong direction.

At least the scenery was beautiful. He was in the good part of town, wasn’t he? The skyrise apartments stretched up, windows glowing brightly in the night. Myungjun tried to look up, tried to count how many floors there might be, but he ended up stumbling and falling on his backside. He was fortunate he was still on the sidewalk, but he winced as he staggered up to his feet.

“You okay?” a voice called out.

Myungjun was unsure which direction it came from. Right, maybe? It was always right. He spun to the right, but he was lightheaded and his ass hurt and he nearly fell again. He  _ would _ have fallen if not for the arms that suddenly wrapped around his waist to hold him steady.

“Whoa, little man. Don’t do that.”

Little man?  _ Little man? _ Myungjun wanted to take offense to such a phrase, but he ended up giggling instead.  _ Little man. _ Was he a little man? This other man must be tall. Myungjun craned his neck to look and he let out a small sigh. Tall  _ and _ handsome, though the alcohol clouding Myungjun’s mind wouldn’t let him pick out any distinguishing features. He would have to trust his gut, then, that he was looking at a handsome man.

“I have to go right,” he told the man.

“Oh?”

“Right.”

“Why don’t you call a cab?” 

“The...the man grabbed my ass.”

The tall and handsome person holding onto him gave a small chuckle. “I don’t think that has anything to do with you not calling a cab.”

“He took my wallet.”

“ _ Oh _ . You ought to cancel your cards, then.”

Myungjun nodded his head. He couldn’t stop nodding once he started, though, and he continued to nod, even as the man asked, “What’s your address?”

The question went in one ear and out the other.

“Hey. Little man, what’s your address?”

“Address?” Myungjun parrated. 

“Yeah. Address. What is it?”

And so Myungjun blurted out the first address in his mind. “Um...forty-one-one-B-Don—”

“That’s the address of a gay bar,” the man said. He sounded a bit exasperated. Oh, geez, why could Myungjun pick out voice tones rather than facial features? He tried to look again at this man in front of him, tried to narrow his eyes and  _ really _ stare, but all he could make out was the mask that covered the lower half of his face. 

“Mm,” Myungjun agreed.

“What’s  _ your _ address?”

What  _ was _ his address? He had moved so many times in the past couple of years that it was difficult to remember his current address. Wasn’t it a number in the hundreds? Or maybe it was the forties — no, the gay bar started with  _ forty _ . It was something else, then, something he couldn’t recall.

He shrugged his shoulders uselessly. 

The man sighed again. Myungjun noticed that he had pretty eyes. They were such dark, piercing eyes, but they were pretty, nonetheless. If he were still at the gay bar, he’d definitely hit on this man.

“Come on, then,” the man said, wrapping an arm around Myungjun’s waist. Myungjun wondered if he would be groped again. He wouldn’t mind being groped by this man. Unfortunately, the maneuver was nothing lewd. Rats.

“Where...where are you taking me?” Myungjun asked, fumbling with the words.

“My place.”

“Oh!” Myungjun brightened immediately. He giggled and snuggled into the tall man beside him. The man was hard and well-built. Fantastic; Myungjun appreciated hunks.

The man made a small noise in his throat, though Myungjun couldn’t tell if it was a good noise or a bad noise. Non-committal, maybe? Oh, whatever. He was too drunk to tell and too drunk to care.

As they slowly walked, the man began to speak. The conversation sounded slightly mundane to Myungjun, who merely nodded along while holding back yawns. What was he going on about? Maybe about mattresses, and maybe about the gay bar, and maybe about his busy schedule. Myungjun couldn’t exactly pinpoint a true conversation topic, but he  _ did _ hear it when the man suddenly asked, “Are you tired?”

“Hm?”

“You’re tired, aren’t you?”

“Not at...no. No, not at all.” Myungjun finally yawned, unable to hold it back. His jaw cracked and he winced slightly at the feeling before cuddling even closer to the man. The man gave a small chuckle, tightening the grip he had on Myungjun in order to keep him upright. “I’m...I’m Myungjun.” He needed to introduce himself. He also forgot what they had been discussing before.

“We’re almost there, don’t worry,” the man assured him.

The rest of the night was a blur. Myungjun was vaguely aware of being led up to a high-rise apartment, one of nice decor, and an expensive-looking vase he may or may not have knocked over on accident. He could only slightly comprehend the fact he was being pushed down into a large and comfortable bed with silk sheets, and at some point he must have fallen asleep suddenly.

He didn’t awaken again until the sun had risen, casting its blinding rays over his tired and frail body. He smacked his lips together, berating himself for having been so stupid and drinking so much. He really needed to stop getting drunk.

Upon sitting up in bed, he noticed a bottle of water to his side and a note. Myungjun narrowed his eyes as he read the note slowly, squinting through the headache that was beginning to pound in his brain.

_ I’m making you soup. Go out the bedroom door and down the hall. You’ll see the kitchen! _

It wasn’t signed, but it  _ did _ have a smiley face drawn on the bottom. Myungjun blinked before glancing around the bedroom.

Whoever had taken him home was  _ loaded _ with money. The apartment was surely expensive, what with the floor-to-ceiling windows and large, spacious room. Even the paintings that hung on the walls seemed pricey, and Myungjun marveled at them with an opened mouth.

He drank some water and stumbled out of bed, prepared to begin his walk of shame. Sure, he definitely hadn’t slept with the man (he wore the same clothes as before, and he  _ knew _ he would have remembered if he had sex), but it was still embarrassing to be rescued by some random, wealthy person. Myungjun decided he would deal with his humiliation later, once he had found a way to escape such a lovely apartment.

Unfortunately, as he tip-toed down the hallway, he ran into a small table that housed a lamp. He was able to catch the lamp before it fell, but that meant his presence had alerted the man, who poked his head out of the kitchen with a wide smile.

Myungjun dropped the lamp when he noticed who his savior was.

_ Moon Bin _ .

Popular actor Moon Bin? The Moon Bin who had been in several dramas and even more movies? The Moon Bin who had shocked Korea by coming out gay and still managed to stay within the public’s good graces? The Moon Bin who had traveled the world and was in talks to go to Hollywood? 

He was rescued by  _ that Moon Bin? _

The lamp shattered at his feet and Myungjun stumbled backwards, horrified at what he had done.

“I-I’m...oh, god, I didn’t mean to…”

Moon Bin rushed forward. He wore an apron tossed over some ratty pajamas. His hair stuck up every which way, and his thick-rimmed glasses seemed to overtake his entire face. Still, he was  _ cute _ , even in such an outfit. As expected of a famous actor, Myungjun thought.

“Did you hurt yourself?” Moon Bin asked, his worried gaze passing over Myungjun’s body.

Myungjun shook his head dumbly and stammered out, “But...I’m...I’m sorry, a-about the lamp and the vase, an-and the fact you had to take me in. Oh, god, I’m so dumb. I’m so sorry. I can go home now—”

“Let me get this cleaned up,” Moon Bin said. His voice sounded cheery despite all Myungjun had put him through. “Then I’ve made some hangover soup for you that will probably help.”

Nothing was making any sense. Was Myungjun still drunk? Why on earth was Moon Bin treating him so kindly after being so incredibly inconvenienced? 

As if understanding Myungjun’s confusion, Moon Bin gave him a soft smile. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I hated the lamp, anyway. And the vase was an expensive gift from an annoying fan, so I finally had a reason to get rid of that one, too.”

“Why di-did you even take me home?” Myungjun blurted out, wanting to get to the cause of his issues.

“You needed help,” Moon Bin said, as if Myungjun ought to have known the reason. 

“You take random drunk people home?”

“Well, no.” Moon Bin gave a crooked grin. “But you’re a  _ cute _ drunk person, and after you confirmed you came from a gay bar, I just...I have selfish reasons, I guess. I wanted to see where this would go.”

Myungjun felt bewildered. Did Moon Bin just call him cute? Did Moon Bin express interest in him? What had happened to the heavens that they allowed such chaos on their planet?

Moon Bin giggled lightly and added, “Plus, you need to work out your wallet issue. Someone stole it from you, right?”

“Oh.” Myungjun had forgotten that, and he felt himself turning red. Oh, god, he had really embarrassed himself this time, hadn’t he? He ought to have jumped out of a window.

“Come eat first, though, and then we can deal with your wallet, and then, maybe, we can go get ice cream or something? That’s what people do on dates, right? I’d have to wear my mask and a hat, so it’ll be kinda silly, but—”

As Moon Bin rambled on and on, Myungjun blinked, trying to wade through the words he knew he heard.

“Date?” he asked.

Moon Bin looked sheepish. “Um...yeah. If...if you want. We can go on a date.”

“You’re...asking  _ me _ on a date?”

“Yeah.”

“You aren’t screwing with me?”

“No. Why would I do that?” Moon Bin made a face. “Look, you’re cute and...I dunno, it’d be nice to get to know you better.”

This had to be a dream. Myungjun was  _ convinced _ this was a dream. Except he had never been hungover in his dreams, and dreams shouldn’t have this much detail, and he  _ knew _ he was probably the only person to ever see Moon Bin standing there looking so gosh-darn cute and adorable, and so what if it  _ was _ a dream, because he wanted to hit that.

“My wallet’s missing, like you said, so I expect you to pay for the date,” Myungjun responded, trying his best to appear confident. 

He wasn’t sure if the confidence worked, though, because Moon Bin seemed to melt, a gooey smile pulling upwards at his lips, and he nodded his head with enthusiasm.

“I’ll pay!” he confirmed. “Go sit and we can eat together!”

He ushered Myungjun into the kitchen as he remained in the hallway to clean the broken lamp.

Myungjun took a moment to admire the gorgeous kitchen before smiling to himself.

He was glad he had taken that left turn.

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on my twitter page [@vonseal](https://twitter.com/thevonseal) for spoilers and general nonsense.


End file.
